


FMA Shorts

by psyraah



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-11-21 09:55:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 8,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18140690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psyraah/pseuds/psyraah
Summary: Collection of my short stories from Tumblr.1. Royed: Roy likes to hold Ed (Part 1 of 2)2. Royed: Roy likes to hold Ed (Part 2 of 2)3. Favoc: Jean buys Kain a Christmas gift4. Royed: Rekindling after some time apart5. Royed: A surprise gift for Ed6. Royed: Sleepy cat!Ed7. Royed: Ed comforting Roy after a bad day8. Edling: Stargazing9. Royed: Ed graduating from uni10. Royed: Roy runs away after a nightmare11. Edling: Lost on a roadtrip12. Royed: Caught in the rain13. Favoc: Jean coming home14. Favoc: Sappy/serious bedtime chats15. Royed: Break up and make up16. Favoc: Dragon Jean17. Royed: Zombie apocalypse AU18. Favoc: New years





	1. Royed: Roy likes to hold Ed (Part 1 of 2)

In the four years (and counting) that they’ve been together, Ed’s noticed that Roy likes to hold Ed. A lot. 

It wasn’t really something he noticed at the start. Honeymoon periods and the thrill of the chase and all that, so he just filed Roy’s touches under a boxed marked ‘Giddy Hormones’, and let him do his thing. After all, Ed felt the same way, smiling every time they held hands, or his heart thumping wildly whenever they cuddled with Roy curled around him, playing with his hair and brushing his fingers over Ed’s skin. 

But now, it’s four years down the track, and he doesn’t think it belongs in Giddy Hormones anymore. Sure, Ed still smiles when Roy’s hand reaches for his, and feels his heart settle when Roy wraps his arms around his waist. But now he’s moved Roy’s touches from Giddy Hormones (Which Will Definitely End) to something more stable. Less of a cardboard box, and more a little treasure chest. 

Something like ‘Love’. Something like ‘Heart’. 

Something like ‘This Man Is My Soulmate and I’ll Never Get Sick of Touching Him Either’.

It’s simple, but constant. It’s Roy’s arm around his waist when they stand in line for something. His hand curling around Ed’s even when his automail must be freezing against Roy’s fingers, even if he’s wearing gloves. And sometimes when they hug, Roy just…lifts him. He’ll wrap his arms, strong and sure, around Ed’s waist and literally sweep him off his feet, smiling up at him as if he can’t imagine anywhere else in the world that’s better than being a foot shorter than Ed, with aching arms. And when he lowers him, he always rubs his hands up and down Ed’s arms, and it makes Ed’s heart beat a little faster with the…protectiveness of the gesture. 

Over the years, Ed’s noticed more things about Roy. The careful way he is around people, his little bell laugh when he’s relaxed and happy. With all the hand-holding, Ed’s also noticed that Roy’s fingers are delicate, and slim. Which is surprising, when you think about the destruction that he can bring by shifting them just a little, all the death he’s brought through these hands alone. Maybe it’s ‘cause Roy knows that too, that he holds Ed like he’s something precious, something to take care of. 

No, Ed doesn’t need Roy’s protection, ‘cause he can take care of himself. But in Roy’s arms, Ed feels a little less like the weight of the world is on his shoulders, a little less like he  _needs_  to take care of himself. Because Roy has offered to do so, and so willingly, that Ed feels a little less scared. A little less lost. 

Just a little more home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roy's companion fic is next!


	2. Royed: Roy likes to hold Ed (Part 2 of 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is to accompany the previous fic.

Roy has always been…reserved, in the way he shows his affections. 

All right. Untrue. He had scarcely given it much thought, was all. But after Ishval, after death and depression and a drunkenness that never ended, he has been careful. And never is he any more careful than when he is with Ed. 

At the beginning, he marvelled at the fact that Ed would accept him, in any way, so Roy had to touch, had to hold, to remind himself that it was real. Would remain real, if he worked at it. And never had he  _wanted_  to work harder at anything, to pour his whole heart and soul into something, than when Ed smiled, brilliant and gorgeous, every time their fingers brushed together. 

Later on, it was awe at the fact that he was staying. That it was all working, and he held Ed close at every opportunity, as a promise to both of them that he would cherish his Edward, and keep him from what harm he could. 

Now having Ed with him grounds him. Makes him steady in a way that he hadn’t known was possible, hadn’t even realised was missing, really. The touches, light as they are and casual though they might be, remind him that in Ed he has found the most dear of friends, and all the best parts of Roy himself. He is still careful, yes, but differently now. Careful to treasure Ed as he ought to be treasured, but with him Roy has learned that with the people he loves, being himself is a little more bearable. 

Roy has also learned more of Ed than he had ever dreamed of, more of love and friendship and life than he realised he had ever missed. And Roy knows, more than anyone, how often the world has tried to take that away. Tried to extinguish that flame and darken that light, so Roy does what he can to make sure it never gets another damn chance to do it. When their fingers tangle together, Ed smiles and the world is a little brighter. When they are warm in bed at night, Roy tucks himself around Ed’s smaller form so that he might feel loved, he might feel even a shadow of what he’s given Roy. 

Ed’s hands are small, like the rest of him. But strong, like the rest of him: his body, his mind, his generous heart. Not surprising; after all, this is the man who punched a self-proclaimed god in the face. Which makes it all that much sweeter every time he offers his hand, gentle and open and inviting, for Roy to take. Every time he rushes to Roy and wraps his arms around him, and lets Roy hold him close in turn. 

And when Roy does, he feels a little calmer, a little steadier. 

A little closer to happiness. 


	3. Favoc: Jean buys Kain a Christmas gift

“Havoc, why’re you sittin’ at Fuery’s desk?” 

Okay, Jean will admit it—he jumped, and almost fell out of the chair. 

Whipping his head around—he didn’t think anyone was still in the office, all right?—there was Ed, folders tucked under his arm and doing his signature frowny-thing. 

“Oh, hi, Boss. How’re the…things you’re doin’?” 

Ed raised an eyebrow. “They’re great. What’re you actin’ all weird for?” 

Trust Ed to cut to the chase. Jean had hoped that Ed would spare his dignity—wasn’t he meant to be the Alchemist of the People, or something? Wasn’t Jean people? Didn’t he deserve an alchemist too?

“I…um…well…”

“Okay, let’s try that again.” Ed was grinning now, and Jean’s slight shock turned to terror. “What’s up with Fuery that you’re freakin’ out about this time?” 

“Who says it’s anything about Fuery?” he asked indignantly. He wasn’t that transparent, surely—

“Since when do you worry about anythin’ else?” 

Okay, okay, he totally was. 

Jean deflated, and…well, to be honest, he did need someone to talk to. Mustang and Breda would laugh, and Hawkeye and Falman would just both give him blank looks. Usually, he went to Kain for this kind of people social stuff, but…well.

“It’s just…Christmas is comin’ up,” he said, slowly, and he fiddled with Kain’s stupidly pretty pens that he had lined up on the desk. “And I still haven’t gotten him anythin’. I thought maybe sittin’ here would…I dunno, give me ideas? But it’s just…hard.”

Hard because it was Kain, and special because it was Kain. It was his first Christmas together with Kain, since they became…boyfriends. Or something. And Jean wanted it to be good. 

“Is that it? I’ve got somethin’ for you then, Havoc.”

Jean was very glad that they got the couple of days before Christmas off, but even with the holiday, he was still stupidly busy. His family had come to Central for the holiday, and he had to show them around and take them out. It wasn’t like he didn’t  _want_  to see them—he loved them, even though his sisters bullied him like never before now they knew he had a boyfriend—it just meant he had to knit like a man on a mission in all his downtime.

It also meant sprinting through the streets of Central at 11:46pm with his gift tucked under his arm, his breath making little white puffs on the really cold air. With all the family stuff, he hadn’t planned to spend his Christmas with Kain, but they had been wanting to have lunch at least. But then Kain had called to say his grandmother had pulled a surprise visit, and he was really sorry, but they’d still have their date next week?

“Yeah, don’t sweat it,” Jean had said, even as he had been desperately running through logistics in his head about when he could get his present to Kain during the day, having only finished it the night before. Now he was the one sweating, because it turned out that dashing through the streets late at night to get to your boyfriend’s house in a huge show of romance was not an easy task. Sure, he knew that he could leave it to the next day. But did he want to? Nope. Kain would get his Christmas present on  _Christmas_ , damn it. They were a  _couple_  now. And Christmas was one of those things that you spent with family, and…well, Kain was family. 

Jean could feel his cheeks heating up from the just the thought of it. He blamed it on the running. 

11:58pm, and he was at Kain’s door, pretty much collapsing on it when he tried to knock. 

Inside, there were footsteps, and then the door swung open—

And there he was. Rabbit pyjamas and all. 

“Jean, what—”

“Merry Christmas,” Jean wheezed, shoving his package into Kain’s arms. 

Kain stared. Then he smiled, and man, that was  _not_  making Jean’s heart rate situation any better. “I—thank you,” he said softly. “Come in.” He grabbed Jean’s hand, and Jean followed him along inside, collapsing on the couch.   
Kain sat down next to him with slightly less force. “Can I open this?” 

Jean waved his hand as a yes—he didn’t have any breath left for words. 

Gently, Kain undid the neat, green ribbon, and started unfolding the silver wrapping. Jean still couldn’t breathe. He needed to get back in shape, damn it, he was in the military, it should not be this bad. 

But when Kain squealed, it was all worth it. 

“Jean, did you—did you make this?” 

Jean finally managed to sit up, and was rewarded with the sight of Kain Fuery in his lilac pyjamas with the little rabbit pattern, and a scarf of evening blue wound around his neck. 

“Yeah, I—Ed said you needed a scarf, said he kept bumping you in the mornings when it was miserably cold. So…” So, Jean would do anything to make sure that Kain wasn’t miserable. Gently, he leaned forward to settle the wool around Kain’s neck, as Kain grinned delightedly and buried his face in the material. 

“Oh, it’s so  _soft_. And the colour’s beautiful.” His eyes were shining when he looked up at Jean. “I love it. Thank you.” 

Jean swallowed. “Yeah, no problem. I just…I wanted to give it to you today.” 

Then Kain dived at him, and the breath was knocked out of him all over again. “Thank you.”

Jean smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of Kain’s head. “Glad you like it.” When Kain squeezed his arms tight around Jean’s waist, it was again a bit hard to breathe. But this time, he didn’t really mind. 


	4. Royed: Rekindling after some time apart

When they find each other again, it’s almost like they never left. 

Like Roy never went on his long trip to Xing, right when their…something had possibly been about to bloom. But when he’d returned, Ed had gone back to Risembool, and Roy…Roy, the fool, had promised himself that he’d call. But then some disaster led to some other crisis, and pathetic excuses, and the phone had remained untouched for months. 

When Roy’s initial reaction is to blink and say “Ed, is that you?” (as though that shade of gold and the strong set of his shoulders could  _be_  anyone else), he wants to bury his face in the fancy pot plant at this fancy dinner. 

But after a few minutes of odd silence, it’s like that time has never been lost. As though all the travelling and living in between had only made them  _more_  alike, in how they realised how little they both knew, in their exasperation at politics and politicians. 

“Don’t pretend you aren’t one of them too, Roy,” Ed says, nudging him in the ribs when he expresses that particular sentiment. 

“I might be, but at least I still have your favour, so I am arguably in a better position.” 

“Does my ‘favour’ mean that much to you?”

The stars shine off the gold of Ed’s hair, and despite the chill evening breeze, Roy’s filled with warmth. 

“Of course,” he says, and he likes to think that the darkening of Ed’s cheeks is a blush. 

And this time—after Hawkeye comes to tell him the car is ready outside, and after Roy has thought of and dismissed all the other higher-ups he should’ve been mingling with while he’d been spending time with Ed—this time, he can’t let it all slip away again. 

“Have dinner with me,” he blurts, eyes honest and heart raw, after they shuffle their feet for several minutes over a goodbye that neither of them wants to finish. 

Ed blinks at him, and Roy’s heart sinks at the thought that maybe he’s moved on, maybe he has something else. 

But then Ed smiles, and Roy can’t breathe. 

“When?” he asks, and reignites the flame in Roy’s heart. 


	5. Royed: A surprise gift for Ed

“ _Circle_ , Roy, not oval.”

“That is a circle!” 

“Nah, it’s too long. C’mon, I thought glasses would  _help_  your stupid old eyes.” 

“You try draw a free hand circle then!”

“You can’t draw a circle and you call yourself an alchemist? What was Hawkeye  _teaching_  you?” 

“This is my freehand circle!”

“Just…just do it again, you ass. Humour me. Go on.” 

“I swear, it’s not—”

“Just do it.”  

“Fine. I still don’t think this is going to work.” 

“Just do it!”

“All right, then…oh.” 

“Yeah, ‘oh’ is right.”

“Indeed.”

“So are you gonna show me what you made? What’s this for, anyway? I thought you were working on the steel thing for the doctors, this is…what, gold? And you’ve got a tiny bit of it, what could you make out of this pissy amount of gold? Gold, and it’s gonna…what shape is that? It’s gonna make…a…shit.” 

“Make a what, exactly, Edward?” 

“You…shit, you know exactly what, you’re holding—fuck. Fuck, Roy, you sappy, god damn—fuckin’—you—there was—your design was fine!”

“It was, but I wanted to show you something. Oh, love, don’t cry. Don’t—I love you.”

“You’re—shit, what did you wanna—fuckin’ weird sappy ass stupid bastard.”

“I wanted to show you that I will always need you by my side. You teach me, you grow me, you…you  _make_  me. A better alchemist, a better friend, a better person. I…I’m not me without you anymore, and so I can’t—I just  _can’t_  imagine not having you with me.”

“You—you’re the  _shittest_. You’re the absolute worst, stupid, asshole of a boyfrie—fiancé? Shit, are you my fiancé now? Stupid ass sounding word.”

“Well, only if you want me to be. So…will you marry me, Edward?”

“What the fuck do you think?”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” 

“Duh. Stop holding that thing like a dork and just—”

“All right, all right. Here. Hand out.”

“…it fits.” 

“I’ve known your hands, quite intimately might I say, for years now. Of course if fits.” 

“You’re the worst.” 

“Mmm, I adore you too.”

“I—gods, I love you, Roy. I do.”

“I know, Ed. I know.”  


	6. Royed: Sleepy cat!Ed

Roy gets woken up by the sound of a motor running, and an anvil on his chest.  

All right, perhaps that is an exaggeration. Either way, when he blinks his eyes open and squints against the sunlight creeping in through the window, there’s a cat nestled on top of his chest, whiskers flickering in the grey dawn. Said cat is purring contentedly. Said contented purring is  _way too loud._

“Ed,” Roy whispers, though he supposes Ed probably can’t hear him over the damn purring. “Too much noise. Can’t sleep.”

Ed—obstinate even in sleep—simply let’s out a  _ridiculously_  long purr that drags on for ages. And then he digs his claws into Roy’s chest and hums even deeper. 

“Ow, Ed—” That’s it. Patting blindly in the dimness, he manages to wrap both hands around Ed’s cat form. Maybe if he can just shift him, then the purring will go away and sleep will takes its place instead. 

He’s barely moved an inch before he’s got a human-sized cat sprawled on top of him. 

Roy regrets his entire life. 

“Ed,” he sputters, while Ed hisses. “Can’t breathe.” There’s fur in his face and a heavy tail weighing down on his legs, and one of Ed’s hind legs  _digging into his stomach_ —

Then he’s got a human-sized  _human_  lying on top of him, and sleepy grumbling filling the air. With a sigh, Roy shifts them both so that Ed is lying next to him, head pillowed on Roy’s chest, and it’s a bit easier to breathe. In the pre-dawn light, Roy can just make out Ed’s eyes, narrowed to slits as he glares at him through his hair. 

“What’d you have to attack me for, I was sleepin’,” Ed mutters. Despite the reprimand, he wriggles closer, and presses himself against Roy. 

“I just wanted you to stop snoring,” Roy protests, but even as the words leave his mouth his eyes are dropping shut again. Their bed is so soft, Ed’s warmth next to him is just nice, and the solid presence of Ed’s bare shoulder beneath his hand is a blessing.

“And I just want you to shut up,“ Ed mumbles, smooshing his face further into Roy’s sternum, as though he’s trying to dig a hole with his face. He really doesn’t need to though—Ed’s always managed to get under his skin, and in the best way. 

“Okay, okay, shutting up,” Roy says, and he lays his hand on top of Ed’s head—the perfect place to run his thumb gently up and down the silken fur of Ed’s ears. Ed lets out a sleepy mumble, and lays a kiss on Roy’s collarbone. 

“You’re makin’ pancakes later. S’rude t’wake people up.”

“Yes, love.” 

“Ass.” 

“Only for you.”

“…gonna need maple syrup too.” 

“Go back to  _sleep_ , Ed.” 

Roy ignores the last parting shot (“better haul your ass out to get raspberries too”). They settle into the warmth of their sheets, their gentle breaths deepening as they drift back off to slumber, Ed’s tail curled protectively around Roy. 


	7. Royed: Ed comforting Roy after a bad day

It’s been minutes that feel like hours. 

It’s been the slow fall of the setting sun leaking in through their window, red, red, red. 

It’s been Roy shaking violently beneath Ed’s hands as they smooth over the sweat-damp cloth of the shirt on his back, keeping him grounded, safe, loved. 

“You did the right thing,” Ed says quietly.

Finally— _finally—_ for the first time since he’d slipped quietly through their front door and all but collapsed to his knees in the hallway, he looks at Ed. “How can you  _say_  that?” Roy asks desperately, voice hoarse. He’s looking up at Ed with terror in his eyes—terror of  _himself_ , what he was and what he is and could be. And fuck, Ed can’t stand his fear. “How can you—you weren’t  _there_ , you didn’t  _see—_ ”

“Roy, I know you.”

“You weren’t there!” He all but shouts it, eyes red-rimmed and teeth bared in rage. “You didn’t—you think you know me, but you  _don’t._ You don’t see what I can do, what I  _would_  do.”

“‘Would do’ to do what, Roy?” Ed asks, and his voice is gentle, but firm. “To protect people? To make sure fuckin’ idiots don’t blow up the entire shopping district and gun down families?” It’s painful, the way Roy’s face just  _crumples_ , how he closes his eyes tight as though he can’t bear to see Ed look at him anymore, how he sucks in that horrible, shuddering breath as he ducks his head. His arms cinch tighter around Ed’s waist, and Ed runs gentle fingers through his hair. “You did what you had to do. I know that.” 

“I should have been faster,” Roy says, voice thick, but firm with conviction. “I should’ve—there could’ve been another  _way_ , there could’ve been  _anything_ else I could’ve done other than use my fucking  _gloves_  again, I knew there were civilians, I should’ve known that they could only get hurt for—”

“And did you have time for that?” Ed interrupts. “What could you have done?” 

“Call for fucking back-up, get a response team instead of playing some kind of war hero.”

“Did you have time for that?” Ed repeats.

“I—”

“Roy.” 

Roy stays silent.

And for a moment—a  _shit_   _no, come back to me, Roy_ —moment, Ed thinks he might’ve pushed too far. 

But then Roy takes a shuddering breath, and looks back up at Ed. Tears run freely down his cheeks, and his teeth are still grinding together. His face is red and blotchy, eyes swollen. But…there’s still fire in them. 

He’s not done yet. 

“I could’ve done better.”

“Maybe,” Ed says. “Hindsight and all that. But you did what you could. And you know what else, Roy?” 

Roy shakes his head, and presses his face back to Ed’s stomach. It’s endearing—and something to be treasured—that Roy trusts him like this. Trusts him enough to let himself be weak and scared and broken. 

“You learn. You get better. You keep moving.” Roy hiccups, and presses closer. “You taught me that,” Ed says, quiet, and fond. “You are  _good_ , Roy,” he whispers. “You are. I promise.” 

There’s a long, long silence, and from the tension in Roy’s shoulders and the way that he’s still shaking, Ed knows the tears haven’t stopped. But Roy’s breathing—he’s alive, and he will be better. Ed’s knows this, because the man in his arms is strong and beautiful and fire-bright. 

“Thank you.” The words are hoarse, quiet, and barely there, but Ed’s heart swells all the same. 

“It’s okay,” Ed says softly, while Roy sobs in his arms. Slowly, he kneels, so he can gather Roy closer, hold him tight as though the very pressure from his palms spread across Roy’s back and his arms around Roy’s waist could smooth out the tremors from his tired limbs and aching heart. “It’s all right. You’re all right, you’re still good.” 

Roy shudders, and sniffs, and stills. 

“Thank you.”


	8. Edling: Stargazing

“It’s just  _interesting_ , but we’ll never know, you know?”

“You can  _try_ , I mean shit, hundred years ago we didn’t think we’d get to the fuckin’ moon either—”

“But that’s the  _moon_ ,” Ling insisted. “This is  _ducks_ , Ed. That’s way harder.”

Ed snickered. “Never gonna get anywhere with that fuckin’ attitude.”

A slight rustle told Ed that Ling had probably moved from his position lying on his back on the soft grass, and was probably giving him an annoyed look. A glance over told him that his suspicions had been correct. “I’d like to see  _you_  try learn to speak to ducks, Ed,” he said. 

He really was fucking gorgeous, wasn’t he? Especially with the 3am moon lighting up his dumb hair, casting shadows across a face Ed knew so well that, even in the dark, he knew what Ling would look like: brow furrowed, lower lip slightly pouty. 

An idiot, pretty much. 

 _But my idiot_. 

“I will,” Ed said decisively. “Then we can fuckin’ finally answer all your dumb questions about whether or not ducks have ‘feelings’, or if they can be duck footed, or if they realise that they have cousins, or—”

A hand covered his mouth, muffling the rest of the sentence. “That is quite enough from you, my dear,” Ling said. “See if I ever take you star-gazing again. I was  _trying_ to entertain you. Be romantic.”

Ed had his complaints ready.  _The grass is wet and muddy and it’s really fucking freezing, what’s so fucking romantic_ , is what Ed tried to say, but then the hand was quickly removed to be replaced with the soft warmth of Ling’s mouth over his. 

Lifting one hand to cup Ling’s cheek, Ed felt a smile bloom inside (his mouth was preoccupied with deepening the kiss, sharing the same breath, soft and sweet). Who was he kidding, really? This was pretty damn perfect.


	9. Royed: Ed graduating from uni

“Roy, stop it—no, I’m  _serious_ , let go of me, you’re gonna—ah fuck, you’re paying if they fine me.”

Scowling, Ed bent so he could scoop the ridiculous hat with its ridiculous tassle off the ground, dusting it off and squinting suspiciously for any marks—he’d only hired the regalia for his graduation ceremony today and it had been fucking  _expensive_ , and he really wouldn’t put it past them to make him pay through the nose if he so much as got a speck of dust on it. 

And Roy  _still wouldn’t let go of him_. 

“Are you gonna be like this for the rest of the day?” he complained, seating the hat carefully back on his head. Not that he was  _really_  complaining, what with Roy’s arms looped wonderfully around his waist, and Roy’s gentle chuckle as he shifted so Ed could replace the hat, before he once again returned to his previous position of nuzzling up against Ed’s neck.

“Surely you can let me be a proud boyfriend for a little bit longer, Edward?” Roy asked, and the smile in his voice was fucking contagious, because Ed could  _feel_  the way the corners of his mouth wanted to lift. 

Still, he fought against it, purely out of principle. 

“Yeah, but do you have to be like a fucking…octopus…koala…clingy… _thing_  about it?” 

Roy pressed a gentle kiss to Ed’s ear. “You love my clingy thingness.” 

Ed rolled his eyes, and shifted so he was facing Roy, though those stubborn arms were  _still_  wrapped around his waist. Roy was grinning like an idiot still, and, ah, what the hell, Ed went along with it. After all, it was a happy day, wasn’t it? After all nighters and gallons of coffee, and Roy having to put up with his cranky ass for  _years_ , the least he could do was let Roy have his turn at being a sappy ass for once. 

So Ed just brought his arms up too, wrapping them around Roy’s middle, one hand still holding the dumb lion plushie with the graduation hat that Roy had given him earlier in the day. 

“I guess…” he said reluctantly, though his own idiotic grin that matched Roy’s probably ruined the effect. 

Still smiling, Roy leaned down and kissed Ed, humming before they parted. His eyes were wild with delight, and his smile was breathtaking, and Ed was so,  _so_ in love as Roy lowered his forehead to his own (knocking the hat off again, but what the hell), rocking them gently from side to side. 

“I’m just…I’m  _so_ proud of you.”

Ed’s heart did a little backflip at the words, at the way that Roy was smiling at him, how his arms were so wonderfully  _tight_  around him, just…just Roy. 

“Y’know,” he said suddenly, remembering a moment he’d had during the long ass graduation ceremony. “When the…the Dean guy was talkin’ before. About like…being proud of our achievements or whatever.”

Roy’s smile turned into a smirk. “I’m glad you weren’t the Dean guy making the speeches, what with your eloquence.”

Ed headbutted him gently. “Shut up. What I was  _tryin’_ to say is that…he went on about all this shit about like…being glad about support from like…friends and family and shit.”

“Mmm, I vaguely remember words loosely to that effect.” 

Ed rolled his eyes again. “ _Point is_ , that…I kinda thought of you. When he said that.” Roy paused in his gentle rocking motions now, and Ed wasn’t entirely sure that the man was breathing. “I just thought about how you put up with all the…all the shit and the stress, and how I must’ve been such a fuckin’  _downer_  for the past couple of years, and how much sleep you must’ve lost with my weird hours, and just…you’re…you’re family. So thanks.” 

Ed swallowed, held Roy closer, felt his heart do that little flip again when he caught Roy’s eyes with his own. “Thank you.”

Roy’s smile was soft, and brilliant, and everything Ed had ever needed in that moment. “You’re welcome,” Roy breathed, before lowering his lips to Ed’s once more.

Even after Roy had drawn back, they stood there a while longer, holding, loving, just… _happy_. And in that moment, Ed could have lived it forever, could have stood there for all eternity with the love naked on Roy’s face, his hands pressed up against Roy’s back, and strong arms holding him in a way that spelled home.

But then…

“Holy shit, did I make you cry?” Ed gaped…the lighting was a bit dim, so he couldn’t be  _quite_  sure, and Roy looked away very quickly. 

“No I just—it’s late, the bugs are out. I have a mosquito in my eye.”

Ed laughed, loud and delighted. “Oh my god, I did. You’re such a sap.”

Roy sighed, and gave up trying to hide it, sniffing as he ran the back of his hand over his eyes. “Only for you, Edward. Now, give me a tissue.”

Ed grinned, and lifted his hand to dab at Roy’s cheeks with his robe, the soft sounds of their laughing, teasing, and loving flitting amongst the chill air of the fading sunlight.


	10. Royed: Roy runs away after a nightmare

“Roy, c’mon, just…come home and we can talk about it, all right?”

“ _I hurt you.”_ Roy’s not crying, but the way that his breath is catching in his throat, and his words are stuttered out over the phone line isn’t any less heartbreaking to hear. 

“It wasn’t your fault. It happens, shit, I’ve come flying out of nightmares before too, you know that.”

“ _Not the same, Ed. Not the—you never actually hurt me, you never lost control and f-fucking_ hit _me.”_

It had hurt, Ed will give him that, but he’s stopped  _most_  of the nose bleed now. Yeah it’s still a little achy, but nothing permanent. The terrifying realisation that Roy had dashed out of the house after the nightmare had been worse. 

“Wasn’t your fault, Roy,” Ed says firmly. A distant sound of a car horn drifts in through their window. “It wasn’t. Roy, come home. I’m worried, it’s fuckin’ three in the morning, you shouldn’t be wandering around by yourself.”

“ _Ed, maybe I should just stay away f-for now, I’ll only _—_ ”_

“Roy, if you don’t come home soon, I’m gonna have to walk around in my boxers lookin’ for you,” Ed says, and he smiles a little, hoping that Roy can hear it over the line. It’s like trying to calm a wounded animal, coaxing Roy back into the house: he’s needs gentleness, and nothing sudden, or the beast will bolt.

“ _You really don’t have to, I’ll be fine.”_

“Do you really want the city to see me half-naked?”

There’s a long, long silence, and the only sound is Roy’s ragged breathing, and the occasional half-whimper that Ed’s not sure Roy even realises has escaped. Each passing moment winds the tension up more and more, until Ed’s sure he’s going to snap. But fucking  _finally_ , Roy talks. 

“ _All right_ ,” he whispers. “ _Five minutes_.”

“Right,” Ed says, relief flooding through him. “Five minutes.”

According to the wall clock in their lounge room, it’s 3:51 when Ed hangs up, and seven minutes pass before the front door clicks open again. Roy steps in, movements stiff, and he hasn’t even closed the door properly before Ed’s over with his arms wrapped around the stupid man, and his face pressed against Roy’s chest. 

“Don’t do any more dumb shit like that,” Ed murmurs before Roy can say anything. “I’m not gonna leave or anything over that, and I’m not gonna hate you because of it.”  _You do enough of that yourself_. “I’ve got you, okay? I get all the dumb, fucked-up shit, I get it, you don’t have to apologise for any of it.”

“Ed, I’m sor _—_ ”

“I just told you, you don’t need to apologise.” Now Ed looks up at Roy, fierce, because that’s what Roy needs. Sometimes he just needs to be reminded that he’s brave too, for all the shit that he’s faced. “I love you, Roy Mustang, and I’m sayin’ you don’t have to apologise for being who you are, got it?” 

Roy’s trembling in Ed’s arms, and his mouth is working, trying to form words, but they keep being aborted with his teeth biting down on his lip instead, and a choking gasp. 

“I don’t know,” he finally manages, and Ed pulls him closer, because he sounds so  _broken_. “I don’t know how this can be enough for you. I don’t understand, I  _hurt_  you, I just _—_ you deserve so much, and I don’t know how to give it to you _—_ ”

The sob that finally, finally breaks free tears Ed apart, and Roy’s arms wind so tight around him that he’s almost breathless, but Ed lets him fall, lets him sink to the ground. Follows him, still holding him close, and hoping he can feel what Ed does, hoping that some of this _—_ _any_ of it _—_ can get through to Roy.

“I’ve got you, Roy,” he says quietly, gathering him close as he sobs. “You’re enough. You’re more than enough for me.”

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know _—_ ”

“You don’t have to know all the answers,” Ed says. “Just know I love you, and I ain’t about to leave.” Roy’s breath hitches again, and Ed kisses his temple, rubs gentle circles on his back. “You’re enough, Roy, I promise. You’re enough.”

He repeats it, over and over, between Roy’s broken sobs and shuddering breaths. Tells him of all the little things he loves, of his laughter and his wit, of how he always leaves Ed the last cookie in the batch, and how the pot plant in the kitchen flourishes and grows under his care. Because even if the man doesn’t believe that there’s good in himself, Ed can, and Ed does. 

And if Ed can help Roy see even a fraction of what is bright and beautiful in him, maybe that, too, will be enough. 


	11. Edling: Lost on a roadtrip

“Fuck, Ling, just give me the fuckin’ map al—”

“Edward, my dear, cute as it is, I’d like you to stop sticking your nose into areas in which you’re utterly incompetent.”

Ed gaped. “Me?” The word was  _not_  a squeak, no matter how many times Ling had described Ed’s indignant questions as such. No, his voice was deep, and mature, and dignified. “At least I only managed to get us onto a  _highway_  in the middle of nowhere; you’ve gotten us stuck with no fuckin’ gas next to a  _lake_  in the middle of nowhere.”

Ling flapped a hand dismissively, chewing on a stray strand of hair. “Whoever knew that the blue squiggly lines were  _rivers_  and not roads?” he murmured distractedly, words eaten up slightly by the hair in his mouth. 

Ed just groaned and thunked his head against the window dramatically, then did it again just for the effect. “Well, it’s not like we’re gonna get anywhere if we got no fuckin’ fuel anyway, even if you do know how to get back.”

“Oh.” 

Ling turned to Ed, and the expression on his face told Ed that that particular happy circumstance had only just occurred to him. 

Or it had already occurred to him, and he was just trying to piss Ed off.

Either way, it was working just fine. 

“Well then.” Ling opened the door, map still in hand, phone in the other.

Ed scrambled to get his door open too. “Hey, where’re you goin’?” Then he really  _did_  squeak when Ling balled up the map, and flung it into the lake. “And what the  _fuck_  are you doin’?”

Ling—the stupid, idiotic asshole who Ed called his boyfriend—grinned as he tapped something into his phone, then flung it aside with a grand gesture. “Calling Lan Fan to come rescue us.”

Ed rolled his eyes. “Seriously, we’re meant to be on a fuckin’ holiday and you have to get your best fr—” But whatever else Ed was about to say quickly trailed off into nothingness when Ling flung something else to the side to follow his phone. 

A shirt. His shirt, which he’d been wearing. Which he’d been wearing, and which had covered up Ling’s very, very pretty chest. That was still covered in marks from last night.

“The weather’s lovely, so while we wait, I think I’ll go for a swim,” he said breezily, and fuck him five days to Sunday if he didn’t know what he was doing, what he was doing to  _Ed_ in particular. 

Ling ducked down to remove his shoes, doing the awkward one-legged hop dance thing as he struggled out of them. “Would you like to join me?”

“No fuckin’ way. You’ll freeze and die of some kinda weird ass disease,” Ed said flatly, trying very hard not to smile when Ling blew a kiss over his shoulder. Really, the guy was so fucking  _ridiculous_. 

“Well, if I do, remember me well, darling.”

Then he shimmied out of his jeans, and Ed’s willpower just withered away. 

“Fine,” he muttered, but he made sure to do so loud enough so that Ling could hear. He kicked off his shoes and shrugged out of his own shirt. Trotting to catch up with Ling, he linked his fingers with another five which fit his perfectly, and Ling squeezed his hand and winked, and fuck it if that didn’t set Ed’s heart racing.

They jumped in together, and after an initial moment of  _shit fuck cold I regret everything_ , the temperature became more pleasant as the two of them waded around, although Ed still couldn’t resist complaining a little.

“If I die, it’s your fault,” Ed huffed, once they’d been afloat for a while, brushing Ling’s wet bangs away from his eyes. 

“Don’t worry, dearest.” Ling kissed Ed’s cheek, then waded forward a little more so he could nip Ed’s ear. “I’ll make it up to you later.” 

* * *

When Lan Fan finally did turn up, the position in which she found them was rather compromising. However, she had long since given up on being surprised by anything her best friend did. Ed spluttered, Ling grinned, while she simply told them that she’d wait in her car while they put on some clothes.


	12. Royed: Caught in the rain

“Ed, love,  _please_.”

“I said  _no_ , keep your soggy ass away from me.”

“But I’ll freeze, I’ll die a horrible death, all because—”

“Yeah, well, I told you that you can’t just  _pretend_ it’s not gonna rain and expect it to happen!”

It was a losing battle though, trying to deny Roy fucking Mustang. Really, Ed thought, the Fuhrer of Amestris should  _not_ be able to pull off fucking puppy dog eyes, looking so absolutely pathetic with his bangs dripping and shoes soggy while Ed stood under an umbrella, because Ed had been  _sensible_. 

“Please?” The little pout was what finally did it. 

“Fine,” Ed huffed, lifting the umbrella in an invitation. Then he squeaked when Roy dashed under and slung a  _freezing cold and wet holy shit_  arm around him and kissed his forehead noisily. “Stop that! This is what I get for being fuckin’ nice to you!”

“I’ll make it up to you later,” said Roy, smile dazzling even though his hair was a floppy mess. 

Ed sighed as they continued on their way. “You fuckin’ better.”


	13. Favoc: Jean coming home

There was a slam of a car door, and Kain looked up from the pie crust he’d been making, ears tuning into any further noises. It was meant to be today, but he’d already had seven false alarms from the fact that everyone slammed car doors. 

But then…

There it was. 

God, he’d missed that voice. 

Hurriedly wiping down his hands, Kain dashed to the front door, scrambling to get it open before flinging it back, then he was sprinting—almost tripping and tumbling—down the stairs. 

The taxi was just pulling away when Kain barrelled into Jean, and there were strong arms around his waist and he immediately brought his legs up to wrap around Jean. Burying his face in the crook of Jean’s neck, there was nothing, nothing better than this, this scent, a warm chuckle against him, rough stubble brushing his cheek. 

Jean’s lips pressed firmly against Kain’s hair. “What, you miss me or somethin’?” he asked roughly. 

Kain tightened his arms around Jean’s neck. “Yeah, well, you were gone for  _five_  weeks. That’s way too many.”

“Mmm.” Jean lowered Kain, though neither of them let go, and Kain was starting to get an arm ache from reaching up so high. He kissed Jean’s arm, seeing as that was the only part he could reach right now. They stood there a while, holding, loving, simply  _being_  together.

“Come on,” Kain said eventually. “I made you a pie.”

There was nothing like having Jean’s laughter move through him. “No shit?” Jean’s fingers—soft, firm, gentle—traced the length of Kain’s spine, then grabbed his wrist to lift it and press a kiss there. Then their fingers tangled together, and that tiny, niggling feeling of something undone that had been Kain’s companion for the past five weeks finally said its goodbyes, and everything was right again. 

Kain had fallen for the biggest idiot there was, because Jean was currently grinning like Christmas had come early at the mention of pie, and looking at Kain like…

Like there was nothing else in the world that mattered. 

Kain had never gotten around to telling him that blue was his favourite colour, and that the shade of his eyes was everything he hadn’t known he’d wanted.

“Shit, Kain, I love you.”

The stupid smile was infectious, and Kain was grinning as he grabbed Jean’s arm to sling it around his own shoulders. The space beneath Jean’s arm was like sliding home, and Kain fit like he’d never left. 

“Your pie’s getting cold,” he said, and they headed inside.  


	14. Favoc: Sappy/serious bedtime chats

He’s missed this. All of it. Having a warm body next to his, a strong arm around his shoulders, laughter – tired and soft – when Jean rakes his stubble just under Kain’s tuft of hair.  Even the way that a slight breeze hits his toes when Jean stretches out his legs and lifts the blankets up an inch in doing so. 

And god, his scent. 

“What’re you doin’?” comes a soft murmur when Kain’s just…breathing him. A hand’s in his hair and it’s absolutely delightful, and he buries his face further into Jean’s chest. 

“The sheets stopped smelling like you,” he mumbles into Jean’s t-shirt after a long pause. “It’s…it’s just nice to have you back.” Nice to not have to worry, to not have to overthink and overdo to stop the overthinking. Months of running around and no contact, and the ache of missing him had grown every day until he was completely miserable, much as he’d tried not to let the others know. When the call had come through and they’d realised who the Colonel had been talking to, Kain had almost cried from relief. 

Remembering it, he shifts suddenly to prop himself up on one elbow. Though his vision’s slightly fuzzy, he’s close enough to see the slightly startled look on Jean’s face. 

“You’re not allowed to do that again. You know that right?” Jean tilts his head, questioning. 

“Do what?”  _Get stabbed. Almost die. Knit a load of scarves to distract yourself and look like you’d completely lost sight of anything. Travel halfway across the country for months._

“You know what.” He tries to construct a glare, but it’s a little difficult when he’s so content and sleepy despite the sudden undercurrent of worry that’s reared it’s concerned head. 

“Mmmm.” Gently, Jean raises a hand to caress a shoulder. “I’ll try not to.” And for the first time in months they’re safe, and home and Kain’s request pushes itself up into the soft light of the bedroom.  

“You can’t…go.” Kain swallows. “Please.” Next thing he knows, arms shift around him, and when they squeeze tight he can’t help the squeak that comes out. 

“I won’t,” is the rugged breath in his ear. “Promise, kid.” Kain lets himself relax, and then draws back. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, I said so didn’t I?” Jean grumbles. “Besides, who outranks who here?” Kain smiles, pokes Jean’s nose, and settles back down as arms curl to hold him close once more. 

“We all know what the answer to that is.” 


	15. Royed: Break up and make up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A prompt based on Counting the Days, by Good Charlotte.

It was all they were, wasn’t it? Noise and fighting and war, a constant battle of playful bickering and days spent opening old wounds, screaming, warfare. The 1st day had been as explosive as every day since, two hands dragging on Roy’s collar, one “fucking kiss me, Mustang”, and an eternity of heated breathing and the desperate glide of Roy’s mouth over Ed’s. Somehow, they’d cobbled together a routine to their days, a pattern to repeat: rolling out of bed, driving Edward to his lab, Roy heading to the police station for another day of work. Heading home to the sound of Ed clattering in the kitchen, to the call of “hey, bastard”, a kiss pressed to blonde silk, bright laughter. 

But their lives, the two of them, were patterned too. Soaring bliss and utter joy never lasted long—it was who they were, to expect the worst and in so doing, make it true. Yelling and fighting. Make up. Break up. Rinse and repeat. On the 42nd day, Roy slept on the couch, and they’d spent two days in silence before falling back together with desperate hands tugging on clothes and “fuck, I need you now”. On the 63rd day, Edward slammed out of the apartment, lunch half-eaten on the dining table. Roy had gone after him, apologies well-formed after an hour of anger, one of regret, then one of fear. 

And that was just…them. Staying. Leaving. Fighting. Loving. Fear, and fragile trust. 

But on the 257th day, Ed left, and Roy couldn’t find him. 

He checked Ed’s lab, almost haunted it, but the stern-eyed lab head had merely said that Professor Elric was taking leave. Personal reasons. Roy called Al at his clinic, but he refused to tell Roy where Ed was, despite desperate pleas. The days ticked on, and nine days of emptiness seemed like an eternity, the silence where there had been yelling and misunderstanding a chasm, and Roy was being pushed ever closer to the edge. He was slowly falling apart, regret eating him up insidiously from inside, voices in his head berating him. Careless. Stupid. He’d said things he’d never meant, and god didn’t Ed  _know_  that, know Roy? Christ, he needed the brat home, and the worst part was knowing that Ed needed it too. The fact that Ed was avoiding him, hadn’t told him to stop calling even after the countless voicemails, told him that Ed ached to be back too. 

_Ed, please, come home. At least let me know you’re all right._

_There’s no one else, Edward, never been anyone else. I need you home, please. We’ll figure it out, I promise._

_I’m sorry._

* * *

On the 12th day since Ed had gone, Roy dragged himself home after another day at the station. And when he caught a flash of blonde on his doorstep as he stepped out of the car, he’d dared to hope, dared to wish—

Ed stood up from where he’d been sitting on a step. “Hey,” and it was quiet. Subdued, but god it was Ed, and all Roy ever needed. 

Slamming the car door, Roy pounded up his driveway and then gloriously, impossibly, he had Ed solid in his arms again, the scent of him, the way he fit so perfectly against his chest. Slowly, Ed’s arms came up to wrap around Roy as well, and there was nothing as perfect as the way that fingers cinched around Roy’s jacket. 

They stayed for a while, as the air cooled and the bugs started to multiply. Eventually, Roy drew back, one finger running down Ed’s cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately, softly in the twilight. “I’m sorry.” 

At that, Ed visibly relaxed, and he looked up at Roy with a tired smile, but the affection was unmistakable.

“C’mon, bastard,” he said, fingers tangling with Roy’s to tug him towards the door. “Let’s figure this one out.”


	16. Favoc: Dragon Jean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 sentence prompt.

“This really wasn’t ever something I’d thought of to explain why you smell like smoke,” Kain said faintly, staring at the golden creature sitting in his kitchen. The dragon–Jean–looked sheepish, if dragons even could, knocking over a pot plant as he swept his tail from side to side. Still, when Kain gently scratched the scales under Jean’s jaw, one scaly wing drew him in close to press him up against a warm belly, and with Jean purring softly beneath his hand, Kain thought that maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. 


	17. Royed: Zombie apocalypse AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 sentence prompt.

They were tired and battered, but after long, tense hours, Ed fucking  _finally_  had an antidote, though if it didn’t work, they were gonna be supremely fucked over by the hoard that were banging on the doors of the lab. 

“Well, if we go out like this, I’m glad I’m with you,” Roy breathed, and the fire in his eyes burned so bright that Ed couldn’t help but drag him into a long, searing kiss, and hope that it let Roy know everything Ed couldn’t put into words.

The murmured “I love you” told him that it had, and with Roy’s hand firmly in his, Ed opened the door.


	18. 18. Favoc: New years

It wasn’t exactly the memorable, romantic date that Kain had imagined when he’d been younger. In his teens—long ago enough that he’d still had his hopes up that he could grow a little taller—he had dreamed of having his handsome partner by his side to celebrate each new year with a gentle kiss as they wooed him with flowers and promises of new beginnings. Younger Kain had been very taken by the idea that someone would kiss him while fireworks flashed overhead at exactly midnight during some fancy party where all the coolest people went.

Reality presently didn’t exactly match up.

There were fireworks—somewhere, in a park a few streets away. Kain could hear their distant exploding as the clock ticked over to midnight, and another year was heralded without much fanfare in the Fuery-Havoc household. There certainly wasn’t any fancy party. There wasn’t even _any_ party, but Kain couldn’t really complain. Having a quiet dinner in with Jean before cuddling up on the couch together with Marconi was always the kind of night that Kain enjoyed the most. They’d planned to listen to the new year’s broadcast, and the radio host’s excited tones still echoed in the room, although they were quieter now since Kain had turned the volume down once both his companions had fallen asleep.

It wasn’t the memorable, romantic date that Kain had imagined in his youth. But it was enough. More than that, it was pretty perfect. He had Jean’s head pillowed in his lap, and Marconi sprawled over Jean’s—their dog had never realised that he’d long outgrown his puppy stage, and still climbed all over them at any given opportunity.

Jean snuffled in his sleep, and he let out a low grumble as he frowned, opening his eyes. It was a beautiful sight, and Kain smiled adoringly. “Good morning,” he murmured, petting Jean’s cheek.

Jean blinked, looking slightly confused. “What—Kain?” Then his eyes widened almost comically. “Shit.” He tried to sit up, but Marconi was too heavy and he had to lie right back down. Which Kain wasn’t complaining about, because it meant Jean remained in his lap. “Shit, is it midnight yet?”

“Just passed.”

“Shit, I was meant to—” This time he sat up with more grace, gently manoeuvring around their dog. “You wanted a midnight kiss.”

Kain hummed thoughtfully. “I did, but it’s okay. I got to stroke your hair.” He grinned. “At the stroke of midnight.”

Jean blinked at him—clearly still asleep, if he didn’t appreciate _that_ —before he groaned. “Kain, _no_.” But he was smiling, and Kain laughed.

“You love it.”

Kain yelped with Jean pretty much dove on him, pinning him against the couch and showering his face with kisses.

“Jean, what—”

“I love _you_.” Jean grinned as he peppered more kisses all over Kain’s face, and Kain couldn’t stop laughing from the treatment. “I love you, I love you, I love you. And I gotta make up for that midnight kiss I missed.”

Kain pouted, but the corners of his mouth twitched. “Do it _properly_.”

Jean laughed, before gently lowering his mouth to Kain’s. The next kiss was soft, slow, and sweet, and Kain sighed as his breath mingled gently with Jean’s.

When Jean drew back, Kain was a little dazed, his boyfriend gently brushing his hand back. “That better?”

Kain smiled slowly, his heart full. He hadn’t gotten his romantic midnight kiss. But he did get to have Jean, every single day, and there wasn’t anything more romantic than that.

“Yeah,” he said, pulling Jean down for another one. “That was perfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/starchydreams)!


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